Kane drove down the main street and noticed Jenna’s cruiser parked at the curb. She and Wolfe would be interviewing Lionel Provine. He checked the time then headed to Stanton Road. His next stop would be to interview Mr. Rogers—the teacher Aimee and Kate spoke to on the morning of Felicity’s death. The trip would give him an accurate travel time for Derick Smith’s car delivery on Monday morning. As the two people lived relatively close to each other, he would drop by to speak to Mrs. Bolton and check the timeline.

Heading downtown, traffic slowed in a procession toward the fairgrounds. The influx of visitors and the number of people crowding the streets surprised him. The line outside Aunt Betty’s Café went halfway round the block. He smiled. Being a local deputy had benefits. Earlier, he’d walked past the waiting customers, and Susie Hartwig had filled his order at once, all smiles and blushes. The tempting smell of fresh coffee wafted through the window and the sign advertising apple pie à la mode called to him, but he ground his back teeth together, promising the ever persistent rumbling stomach he’d drop by later.

He arrived at Mrs. Bolton’s address and an elderly woman was outside weeding her garden. “Mrs. Bolton?”

“That’s me. What can I do for you deputy?”

Kane took out his notepad and smiled at her. “I gather you had your car repaired at George’s Garage? Do you recall what time Derick Smith dropped it by and how long he was here?”

“Yes, I do. I was eating breakfast so it was around eight.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “He was only here a few minutes. I had a check ready—they had given me a quote—and I gave him the keys to the loaner. He left straight away.”

Kane made a few notes. “So, less or more than ten minutes?”

“More like five.” She screwed up her eyes at him. “Is there a problem?”

Kane closed his notepad. “No not at all. Thank you for your help.” He touched his hat and strolled back to his car. Next stop Rogers.

The house at number 206 Stanton Road was an impressive log home with a wide veranda out front, similar in style to most of the homes in this end of town. He pulled his vehicle into the driveway, made a note of the time of arrival, and headed up the steps. A dog barked from inside and he could hear a man’s voice and footsteps. Before he had time to knock, the door opened and a man in his thirties stepped onto the porch.

Dressed in uniform, Kane’s arrival would usually cause a modicum of concern, but Mr. Rogers’ expression gave no clue to his inner thoughts. “Mr. Rogers?”

“I am.” The man folded his arms against his chest. “Lovely day, don’t you think?”

Taken slightly aback, Kane nodded. “Yeah, it sure is pretty around here in the summer.” He reached inside his pocket for his notepad. “I’m Deputy David Kane and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I know who you are.” Rogers let out a long sigh. “Which kid has got themselves into trouble this time?”

“Why would you believe I’m here for that reason?”

“It’s summer break.” Rogers shuffled his feet, impatiently. “I’m not available to help them maneuver around the cyberbullying rampant online at the moment. I guess a parent complained and you came straight to me to sort out the problem?”

Kane straightened and shook his head. “No, and we have resources to handle a variety of cybercrimes in the department. I came to question you about something entirely different. I need you to account for your movements between the hours of eight and ten on Monday morning.”

“Monday morning?” Rogers appeared agitated. “In relation to what? I am entitled to know if I am a suspect in a crime before I answer your questions.”

Why are you being so defensive? “We received a complaint about an incident that occurred between the hours of eight and ten on Monday morning and I am speaking to people seen in the area.” He met his gaze with a hard stare. “Would you mind telling me what you were doing in Stanton Forest before nine?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Rogers scowled at him. “I have the right to remain silent.”

Kane nodded. “I wasn’t arresting you but I think we’ll take this conversation down town. Do you want to call your lawyer? He can meet us at the sheriff’s office.”

“This is police harassment.” Rogers stepped back inside the house and Kane could see him punching numbers into a landline telephone.

He reached for his cellphone and, eyeballing Rogers, called Jenna. “I need to bring in Mr. Rogers for questioning.”

“The school teacher? Why?”

“He refuses to answer my questions, is acting real weird, and we have two witnesses who put him in the right place at the right time. We have probable cause. I’m staying here to watch him. Will you send someone out with the arrest warrant? I want to do this straight down the line.”

“Sure. I’m waiting for Lionel Provine to show. He’s had an ‘out to lunch’ sign on his door for over an hour. I’ll arrange the documents now and come out to your location.”

Kane huffed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. Will you be able to take him to the office? I haven’t finished talking to people in the area.”

“Not a problem. Wolfe is riding shotgun.”

“Okay, I’ll be close behind you. I have to check on an alibi. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I’ll bring coffee.”

The line went dead and Kane leaned back against the porch railing and folded his arms. His gaze fixed on the movements of the man inside the house. Rogers fitted the profile and was as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Guilty men usually demanded their rights from the get go. Most people are happy to clear their names and answer questions to convince him they are innocent.

The wide windows and open drapes gave him an almost unrestricted view inside the house. A nicely furnished family room with a Chinese rug led to an open-plan kitchen, and a staircase led to the floor above. His attention moved over the man talking fast on the phone and he remembered Jenna mentioning Rogers was married. Yet with all the yelling, he had not seen a woman moving around the house. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He wanted to kick down the door and do a complete search of the property but hunches did not constitute probable cause.

His life had been easy before moving to Black Rock Falls. Find the target, one bullet, one kill, or hang around and protect the president. Now, living as deputy, following procedure, and making a solid case to hand on to the prosecutor, he had to do everything by the book. He scowled at the man cowering in the hallway, his telephone fixed to his ear, and he wanted to scream in frustration. If this maggot is our killer, I hope he tries to run.